Amnesiac

𝐂𝟐: ⓝ€Ｗ ƤⒽⓄⓝⓔ, 山𝐇𝕆 𝓓𝒾𝐬?

TW/CW: This chapter may contain gore, self-harm, swear words(naturally), etc.

Please stay safe and know you're loved. You deserve the world. If you're having negative thoughts, I suggest venting to people, calling the Suicide Prevention Hotline, getting therapy/letting your therapist know, and more. This world's cruel, dude.

Who knew I had a life before this. A peaceful - well, not really.

I knew it sucked from the memories I had. It seemed the only joy I had was the black haired girl that stood beside my bed.

So, here I was, staring up at this girl with slight freckles stuck on her cheeks.

"Um, Lizzy, don't you remember who I am?" she asks. I don't have the guts to answer. I simply stare. "I-It's Lucy, Lucy Thomas, Lulu, ya know?" Lucy whimpered, her stained clothes standing out and being the most familiar from her.

"Who . . . who art thou?" I heard the words slip out of my mouth without my attention.

Lucy started doing a witch laugh, a cackle, like she thought it was a joke.

"Oh my God, you are so funny! I thought I'd lost ya, Liz!"

Who I could only assume were my parents, they didn't laugh. They somberly looked at one another.

And so, Lucy began to stare, waiting for a response from my confused face, until she realized something. I don't know what she realized, but she began sobbing and burst into tears.

"No play with me," I snarled. Lucy knew something I didn't. That made me feel competitive yet upset. I grabbed her hand, and Lucy's face lit up. She leaned towards me, and I didn't know what was going on. I slightly bent my knees in order to sit up, watching them twitch rapidly at the same time.

I let go of Lucy, yet she only seemed confused. She shook her head in an embarrassed manner, before stepping back and looking at the two adults behind her. Tears slowly began to roll down her cheeks.

I got another memory returned to me.

I was pacing in the living room, sobbing. I wiped my eyes with my sleeves, and felt a buzzing in my pocket. I pulled my cellphone out, and stared at the text my mom had just sent me as if it had no meaning at all.

Mom

We're on our way home, Lizzy! We're getting your favorite food to make up for your bad day. :)

I had struggled to have an appetite now. I was too upset with myself.

I grabbed a plastic water bottle like an angry VSCO girl, before slamming it on the floor. I stomped on it, hell, I even grabbed my dad's lighter and burned the shit outta it.

But it only left slight marks. That made me more mad. I tore apart the bottle using scissors and blades that carved pumpkins.

I took one last "perfect" photo, posted it on Instagram, before running to my bathroom and shutting the door.

I snapped out of my saddening memory. Nothing gave me more agony than that memory of true pain. Not even the small memory I had of me towering above a frightened light-skinned girl with strawberry blond hair gave me empathy, but me feeling my own feelings - that isn't empathy.

That's called caring only about yourself, isn't it?

Lucy slid my cellphone out of her pocket and pulled up an amnesia Spotify playlist she made. "I - I made this playlist because I thought it might help you remember." she smiles sweetly, which gave me one more slight memory. She connects her headphones and puts them on my ears.

A pretty song plays, so pretty that tears fell down my cheeks. It felt so much like deja vû, but I didn't care. I listened closely to the details of the song that helped me remember.

I glanced at Lucy, confused.

"No memories . . . no popping up,"

"God damnit, just keep the phone and FUCKING LISTEN!" The girl shouted. That's when I felt distressed, and the music matched my feelings.

I noticed the writing on the paper they left hanging on the desk beside my bed.

Patient Jackson assumed to have Dissociative Amnesia - stressful/traumatic events happened, causing memory loss, unless she hit her head on the mirror and bathtub too much?

Could have Post-Traumatic Amnesia?

Patient Jackson has trouble speaking - explanation is most likely due to hitting her head too much and causing confusion in her brain. Her limbs refuse to cooperate with her, but we assume it's the same thing. She had a seizure/stroke midway in the bathtub while her mother watched, which may be the reason she has trouble speaking and moving.

I winced. Why must I suffer? I began to cry. Everything felt so loud, and so scary.

Every color became vivid and vibrant, making me yelp. My heart felt weak in my chest, yet it managed to pump itself like a basketball player dribbling a ball 5x fast. Wait, how did I even know that, for the record?

I screamed frantically, and hid under the sheets, but it was even bright under there. The music switched to a calmer song.

I sucked in some deep breaths, desperate for clean oxygen. I shut my eyes in pure fright, and felt myself drift . . . and drift . . .